


Silent Night

by vogue91



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Christmas, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Melancholy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 16:46:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13745145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: “We must do crazy things, Padfoot, but do them with extreme caution.” James told him one evening, while they tried to go unnoticed in the hallways of Hogwarts, to go out and to the Forbidden Forest. Sirius had turned up his nose.“And wouldn’t that be incredibly boring? Are you sure Moony isn’t rubbing off on you?” James smirked and slapped his shoulder.“No. It just means caring for our own flea-ridden skin, my friend.” he had answered, then burst out laughing.





	Silent Night

On that very same day, twenty-four years before, he dreamed of receiving his first broomstick. He wanted it with all his heart, that magical object had attracted his fantasies since the first flying lessons at Hogwarts. He had written to his parents, knowing they were going to indulge him, as usual. Whether he hated them or not, when he wasn’t just a kid he cared more for his whims than his pride.

But there was no broomstick under the Christmas tree at Black Manor in 1971. Just hatred, reprimands and disappointed looks.

Sirius remembered it clearly; it was the day when he had finally decided he didn’t want anything to do with them anymore. Not with parents that didn’t have a broomstick for him, nor the slightest hint of love, and all because his soul was golden-red and not silver-green as they’d always hoped.

And in that moment, the memory was vivid, he thought intensely about James, as a lifesaver.

When he had gone back to Hogwarts after the holidays, his friend had seen there was something wrong with him.

_[I’ve been waiting for someone like you]_

Sirius wasn’t going to admit it to anybody, but he had the clear sensation that what James had done after that day was protecting him.

And not protecting him from the others, from prejudices or his own family. Sirius was doing fine on his own with that, sharpening constantly his sarcasm, a weapon always proving itself right.

No, Prongs had taken on a sort of mission. He protected his friend from himself, from the gloomiest thoughts, from the darkest moments of his existence.

Because that’s what the Marauders did. They protected each other, like the Musketeers of that Muggle book Remus had told them about.

They were a family, the one Sirius never had but always wanted. And he had no intention to let it slip away.

Absorbed in memories, Sirius cursed.

Destiny itself, then, made it disappear.

_[But now you’re slipping away_

_Why does fate make us suffer?]_

He still saw confused images, green flashes, a deafening sound.

Then nothing.

His best friend had been taken away and he had been left alone in the world, rejected and renegade, like when he was a teenager.

 _Thank you so much, James, nice job_ he thought, addressing to his friend as it happened often to him during those lonely afternoons. He wasn’t crazy, he knew James was dead. But taking it out on him helped him, way too much.

He remembered when it had all started. When they first knew about the prophecy, and they had realized their happiness was hanging on a thread.

 

_“Padfoot, bloody hell, would you mind calming down?” James told him, glaring at his friend who was pacing back and forth in his house at Godric’s Hollow. Sirius had raised an eyebrow._

_“Calm down, Prongs? You, Lily and Harry are risking your lives and I should calm down?” James had smirked, knowing it would’ve gotten on Sirius’ nerves._

_“Exactly. It’s not your life.” he had replied. Sirius had cursed in between his teeth, then went to the window, pensive._

_“I’ve got a really bad feeling. Voldemort grows stronger every day, you know he’s not gonna stop in front of anything.” he had whispered, turning his back to James. He couldn’t look him in the eyes, not when he was aware those could be their last moments together._

_[You carry hate that I feel_

_It’s over now]_

He had always been bloody right. And James hadn’t listened to him, as usual. He knew Sirius was worried about losing his family, and how scared he was of it. He had never been scared of death, but loneliness terrorized him.

As it kept persecuting him years later, holed up in that home with an Hippogriff as his sole companion, grabbing desperately onto the coming and going of people, soothing his pain.

Being alone didn’t do him any good. He couldn’t shut up his thoughts, and faded words in his mind, belonging to an ended world.

Abandoned, that’s how he felt. Abandoned from James, from Lily, from Justice.

It had been years before he had managed to conquer an ostensible freedom, but being far from Azkaban’s bars had gotten him back what death had took away from him.

_No broomstick, this year. Now I’d just like something to hope for._

He asked in a silent prayer, which he knew nobody was going to hear.

There was no salvation in the hatred he felt for any object or person reminding him of those years when he had been, if not careless, at least serene.

_[Wish I had other choices]_

There was nothing left to do but staying still, waiting for something to happen. And he didn’t have any particular preference, he would’ve just liked something new, something tearing his heart away from pain, boredom, memory.

But too many minutes had passed, too many days, weeks. And Sirius had forgotten how to count time, when it seemed too long for numbers made up from mankind. Running would’ve been the perfect solution, and it was the temptation wrapping him up in its coils everytime his thoughts went to the minefields of memory.

But he knew he had duties toward the present, and promises to keep with the past.

 

_“We must do crazy things, Padfoot, but do them with extreme caution.” James told him one evening, while they tried to go unnoticed in the hallways of Hogwarts, to go out and to the Forbidden Forest. Sirius had turned up his nose._

_“And wouldn’t that be incredibly boring? Are you sure Moony isn’t rubbing off on you?” James smirked and slapped his shoulder._

_“No. It just means caring for our own flea-ridden skin, my friend.” he had answered, then burst out laughing._

With extreme caution. Sirius wasn’t sure he had truly learnt the meaning of that word, which he identified mostly with the infinite boredom of those days. But he had no choice. He knew that James wasn’t going to forgive him if, for his impulsiveness and stubbornness, something were to happen to his flea-ridden skin.

_[I know I should stop believing_

_I know that there’s no retrieving]_

One thing he knew for sure: James wasn’t going to come back, and he wasn’t going to live like before.

There were a few stars in the sky shining brighter than the others during night, and that kept him going. Thinking that somewhere, in some dimension, James was there, with Lily, and that he was still watching over him, mocking him for all his idiocy.

He would’ve just like for a whisper, from time to time, to reach the Earth, to cross his path, to show him that hoping wasn’t such a madness after all.

But there was no whisper but the wind’s, coming filtered by the ample windows of Black Manor.

Frozen and bearer of bad news, as usual. But after all Sirius had grown accustomed to bad news, and they slipped off of him, as the snow in his hand, too hot to survive.

He wasn’t going to come back. He would’ve spent yet another Christmas with no gift under the tree.  

 

_“Oh, come on Sirius, are you really sulking because your parents didn’t give you a broomstick?” James had asked, the first day after the holidays. Sirius had shrugged._

_“No, it’s something else. But I’ve got to say, a broomstick would’ve helped.” he had muttered, and his friends had laughed. They had gone toward the dormitory, and before reaching their own bed, James had put a hand on his shoulder._

_“Just so you know, I’ve got nothing to do with it. It’s all my father’s fault, he insisted.” Sirius had looked confused at him, until he eyes had travelled to his bed. He blinked and froze, before turning and hugging his fried._

_“Bloody hell, James, it’s a Silver Arrow!” he had screamed, taking it into his hands, worshipping it. James had kept quiet; he just kept smiling._

_[I will not fall_

_Won’t let it go_

_We will be free_

_When it ends]_

Giving the Firebolt to Harry two years before, Sirius felt he had paid back a part of the happiness James had given to him.

There was something else he had to do for him, actually. Christmas was getting close, and Sirius knew it was his duty to remind Harry what it meant to be serene, to have a family.

That would’ve been his present.

Knowing that somewhere, inside that kid, there was still a part of James. He smiled, for the first time in a while.

“Merry Christmas, Prongs.” he whispered to the wind.

He thought he was going crazy, but he clearly heard his wishes whispered by the wind into the night.


End file.
